My Brain's Detritus
by madsci111
Summary: Every so often, a very tiny bunny emerges, usually kinda strange, and therefore needs to be written down before it drives me nuts. These are those bunnies. If for some reason you want to expand one, please let me know.
1. Thor and Superhero Names

_Since it seems that in the Avenger movieverse, Thor is himself, not possessing someone, and therefore even more clueless about Earth 21st century life, I needed to write someone explaining the concept of superhero identities._

_They don't belong to me, I'm just having fun, and cleaning out the weirdness in my head._

"Why must I not call Stephen by his name? Is that not the proper mode of address in these places, to use one's given name?"

One of Coulson's many minions, likely the one he was annoyed with that week, answered, "It's not that you shouldn't address him as Stephen, though I think he prefers to be called Steve, is that his true name is not to be used in public while in uniform. There are...secrecy issues...how to explain..."

Finally, the hapless minion was saved from his morass of ineptitude by Pepper Potts, who was passing by to go pester Tony into finishing some paperwork.

"Ah, Lady Virginia! Well met!"

"Hey, Thor. I couldn't help but hear your questions...You know how in a lot of the stories about your family, or say, Beowulf, a person has an epithet that is specific enough to stand in for their name? Captain, or Cap, is the preferred epithet to use while he's in uniform, like you don't call Bruce, Hulk, unless he's all green."

"Ah, that reasoning does indeed make more sense. My thanks, Lady Virginia."


	2. Female Istar

_I've always wondered why the Istari had to be in the shape of 5 old guys. I know, at the time Tolkien wrote the saga, women didn't have the same roles as we're used to these days. This thought has nothing to do with girl-power or feminism. It's just, Eowyn gets to kick ass, and various Ellith, Galadriel for one, get to be all-powerful, and the Valier rule with their husbands, so why can't a Maia in female form get to be an Istar?_

_What would happen if a Maia of Vana became a Istar to replace Alatar when he returned?_

My sister Arien left me ages ago, and I still serve our lady Vana, at least until yesternight, when I was called from tending the healing gardens to the Mahanaxar. There Lord Sulimo asked of me to leave to Arda Marred, as Alatar and Aiwendil had ceased their missions prematurely. With my knowledge of flowers and their healing properties, I was sent to help Olorin, as rumblings of Curumo's fall to darkness, joining his brother, had reached Their ears. As They can not interfere directly, I am to be sent to help.

As for the shape I am to take, I am to pattern my form on Haleth in her later years, an almost ageless, but strong, wise woman. Therefore, I may wander alone as a healer and soothsayer, much as Olorin travels as a spry old man. Lord Sulimo and Lady Varda are to send me to Amon Sul, where I will arrive in my guise and should leave a message in Bree for Olorin, telling him of my presence.

I decided to leave the note in Quenya, with the outside address in the Sindarin.

_**New Moon of Hisime, SR 1354  
>Brother Olorin,<strong>_

_** Lord and Lady send another to combat the spreading darkness. I, Narya Lotiel of Vana's retinue bid you well met. I mean to wander to the home of your friend the star-son. I hope to see you there for Yule.**_

_**Namarie,  
>Urraniel<strong>_

After a small delay due to an outbreak of snow-fever on the way, I still made it to the outskirts of Imladris with 3 days to spare. Upon crossing the borders, I was stopped by a noble elf and his followers. Upon his removing his hood, I blurted out, "Kanolaurea!" to the surprise of the squad, at hearing the tongue of Aman in regular conversation, and the leader's surprise at hearing the nickname.

"How know you that name, stranger?"

"I and my siblings gave you it, in the gardens, when you finally joined us. Did not my brother tell you I was coming?"

Snapping his mouth shut, he snorted and motioned me to pass.

"I will see you at the Yule feast, and you will explain..."

As I passed, I heard one of the youngest ask, "How know you that she is not in the sway of the enemy?"

"She possesses the light of Aman in her eyes, and that nickname was given to me just after I left Mando's Halls."

As I entered the main courtyard, I saw a young elf of Maiar lines sitting on the front steps honing his knives.

"Penneth, where is Earendilion? I wish to meet with him."

"Ada is within. Who wishes to speak with him? I assume you are no foe, or Glorfindel would not have let you in."

"A messenger. Could you lead me to him?"

"A messenger in the guise of the last portrait existing of Lady Haleth? I'd best be on my best behavior."

"Ada, a messenger arrived for you. Should I send her in?"

"Yes, ion...An Istar, milady?"

"No need for titles, I am Urraniel, I believe my brother is around? I told him to meet me here, as I'm newly arrived."

"Ah, of course. It's almost time for the evening meal, should I find him, or would seeing him then be soon enough?"

I nodded that would be acceptable and wandered back outside, where I visited the vegetable garden, laying an enchantment to keep away blight from the root vegetables. As it was a while longer until supper, and the lamps were lit not far away, I decided to climb the apple tree and talk to it a while. That was where the Chief Counselor happened to find me on his way to the hall.

"Milady, what possessed you to climb a tree at your age?"

"I may be older than you, but I can still smack your bum like you haven't experienced since the nursery. Will you escort a crone to supper?" I asked as I straightened my russet skirts.

"Certainly," as they walked he asked her, "And how came you to Imladris?"

"I came to have a chat with Mithrandir."

After we supped, when the music started in the Hall of Fire, we 'oldsters' left for a walk in the glades close to the House, and he finally could ask his questions.

"Came you directly from home?"

"Almost. Milord sent me directly to Amon Sul, as you well know. Has anyone figured out who you are?"

"Glorfindel has an inkling, but I doubt he'd tell. He doesn't like to talk overmuch about the time between the Halls and his rehousing."

"Aye, I called him by the name my sisters gave him when he started frequenting our gardens, it definitely eased my passage at the border."

"I mean no disrespect to our lord, but what was he thinking, sending one who prefers a female housing?"

"He said I was to be a healer, and to replace the Brown and Blue, who have wandered from their missions and returned to nature. He recommended this shape."

"Ah, and with the rise of White's status in the eyes of men, having a Tower and royal edicts at his command, They are concerned he will join his brother."

"Yes, we are not immune to the weaknesses of this flesh we cloth ourselves in. Which reminds me, do we get the winter illnesses? I got stuck in a village with an outbreak of snow fever, being the only healer around after their herbalist died. Being susceptible to mortal illnesses, trivial though they may be, would be inconvenient to say the least."

"We get runny noses, but no fevers and such. Radagast actually sneezed constantly in the spring, last I heard, something about grasses and furry animals."

We chatted for a while longer, mostly my catching him up on Aman gossip. Even though we were under different leaderships, practically everyone in Aman knew Olorin as a nosy being.

A week later, I left Imladris, after the snow stopped falling, and the sky was to stay clear for a few days. I would not be seen in Imladris again for over 25 years, when I would return with news of the events in Rohan and Gondor. Unknown to me, Aragorn Ellesar followed me by a matter of days. The darkness spread, especially in what was once South Greenwood. I had a hellish time getting through all those spiders. I remember well She-Who-Devours, who so decimated our Trees. I checked in on Gil, who had, as a Secondborn with little Edain blood, succumb to the yearly coughs that plagued Men. Elrond was run off his feet with the Men from surrounding villages who brought their worst broken bones and sicknesses to be treated in Rivendell, and with his mixed blood, even if he couldn't die of sickness, he definitely got lung infections every decade or so.

Arwen pulled me aside to ask advice about professing to Aragorn, which I both cherish the thought of, and dread the day Earendilion finds out, not to mention the twins. I finally got her to go talk to the head cook, whose daughter Aredhel is living with a merchant based in a village a day's ride west on the Great Road. She'll make it clear the minutiae of the unions of First- and Secondborn that never makes it into the tales. Thankfully, I left again before she got around to cornering Aragorn.

Grey was off to spy on White, so he sent me to check on his little friend in the Shire, who I'm told is looking for an heir. There are something like 100 cousins, so I'm not sure what the problem is, though it seems he's an odd one, so he must have a set of qualifications to fill. I find the Halflings disquieting, though that's likely mostly to do with the level of noise. While I find their love of nature and the land admirable, they give me a headache.

-  
>I've been wandering the northern wastes of the Misty Mountains, keeping an eye on Angmar and periodically checking on one of the last pockets of Dunedain who can consistently live past 100, the dependents of some of Arathorn's guards. I got a moth-message from Grey that Gil's dead, but I'm too far away to get there for the burial. Not that I've actually met Aragorn, I just seem to know every member of his family. Maybe I should make an effort to actually be around when he visits, or arrange to crash his tracking parties with Grey.<p>

I was heading west from Angmar when I met up with a man who had to be Aragorn, no other Dunedain I'd met was quite that tall, nor wore the Ring of Barahir. He was leading what seemed to be a twisted Hobbit on a leash.

"Estel, I presume?"

"Milady. I hate to rush off, but I do have places to be, and this miscreant to deliver to Thranduil for interrogation and imprisonment."

"Yet my brother told me you are a gracious lord, and this wanderer wished to meet you."

It was then that it seems he actually took in my appearance, and what I'd called him.

"Oh! If you'd care to accompany me for a time, I'd like to meet the sister of my old friend. Have you ever partaken of Thranduil's hospitality?

"I can't say I have. I've avoided the King's Hall, as I'm usually trying to get through without Ungoliant-spawn bites. From what your brothers say of him, he is a carouser, a wine connoisseur."

"He is that. My family and Gandalf spoke of you often, if you are who I think...the fire wanderer who wears the face of Haleth."

"Aye. Now why exactly is this wretch going to prison?"

"I suppose you could call him a witness who is in need of protection from himself and others," he said, flicking his thumb against his ring.

"Oh! I haven't been to Edoras lately, how is Theoden doing, I'd heard that he's fallen ill?"

Seizing on the new topic of conversation, he answered, "Grima's taken over much of the day-to-day administration, and sent the son and nephew away on prolonged patrols, but the Horse-Lord seems to still be in control of his own mind. The man is in his mid-60s without the benefit of prolonged life, so maybe he's just delegating."

"Grima's a protege of my eldest brother, his control of a kingdom does not bode well."

Aragorn was quiet until we came to the guard-post, obviously mulling over what I'd said.

"I thank you for your warning, milady. Are you going to be staying long?"

I shook my head and said, "I'll be here until tomorrow or the day after, I promised Artanis I'd visit soon. She can't do much besides snoop in her mirror, so I stop by once a century or so to fill her in on gossip. She really is worse than Gandalf about being a snoop, even without her mirror..."

-  
>A year and a half later, I had wandered to the northern Shire, stopping in to stay a while with Ben-adar. On my way east to meet up with Grey, I left a package for Aragorn in care of the barkeep at the Prancing Pony, his preferred hostel in Bree. Enclosed was a packet of salves and herbs, plus a crystal that glowed when you swore at it in Elvish (a joke she'd created, initially for Elrohir, who had night vision barely better than a Edain's). With the roads and wilds getting more dangerous, it was a larger amount than Elrond gave him previously.<p>

Checking in on Curinir from afar, and seeing that he truly was falling like his brother, she hurried to Rivendell, where, according to the trees, there was to be a great Council. Arriving toward the end of Winterfilth, she was just in time to meet Glorfindel in the courtyard.

"How'd you get here without going by my patrol?" he snapped as they both headed to the Halls of Healing.

"I came from the east, it really is quite an adventure to slide down the slope on a wet leather cape. If it weren't for the fact that I ended up in a rocky, almost dry riverbed, it would be appropriate for elflings to try after a summer storm."

"If you say so, milady. Can you help Frodo? Estel stuffed a Nazgul wound with aethelas, and it seems he used a whole pot of your wound salve, but the infection is still spreading. Elrond is a strong healer, but..."

"A boost will be necessary? Yes."

While one of the apprentices ran for Elrond, Urraniel started extracting the shard of blade that was inching closer to Frodo's heart every minute. Shortly, Elrond came running, his robes askew.

"Thank the Valar you're here!" he said as he settled in to help.

When Frodo woke, and the time of the Council was firmly set, Urraniel was in an outlying settlement helping Aredhel with her birthing. As a truly half-elven child, the pregnancy term was difficult to predict, though it had been thought the child wasn't coming for another few weeks. It was just as the child started crying that she faltered, feeling a foul mood in the air, and the sky darkening. Sending a bee to sting Grey, who had obviously done something stupid again, she made her way back to Rivendell in time to see the Hobbits scamper off to the kitchens. Seeing Grey talking to Erestor, she stormed up to him, jabbing her staff into his foot.

"Brother, what in all Arda made you think that was a good idea? I almost fell on my face with a knife in hand! You deserve that bee-sting."

"Sister-dear, I was making a point."

"Yet you gave all Light beings with any sensitivity palpitations in the process. Good going, running the risk of killing your host, or little Leaf!"

When the Fellowship convened, Mithrandir attempted, yet again, to convince his sister to accompany them on the quest.

"No! It has been foretold, both by Elrond and Irmo, that the Fellowship is to be Nine Walkers. I cannot come, besides, I have other duties."

After a short staring contest, Gandalf huffed and walked off.

Lotiel-flower  
>Narya-firey one<br>Urraniel-fire lady-wanderer

Just in case someone's curious

III.2954 fall arrive in Arda  
>yule imladris<br>III.2980 late imladris w. news  
>III.3007 Gil dies<br>III.3014 Theoden ill, Grima starts taking over  
>III.3017 April meet Aragorn in Mirkwood when A dropping off Gollum<br>III.3018 Sept leave 'Strider' a package in Bree with some special salves, as he's always getting beaten up  
>C-4 arrive in Rivendell<br>10/25 council, Urraniel not there, as dealing with a Half-elven child birthing (wasn't due for another 2 weeks)-Aredhel and Husband  
>III.3021 Ringbearers leave Arda for Aman<p> 


	3. Naruto Playgroup

Minato-sensei has only been dead for two months, and already little Naruto came close to dying 12 times, the other 6 assassins were caught before they got near the secure ward of the hospital. Therefore, after much discussion, I volunteered to move back into my father's house, fully protected with blood seals, with the chibi, with a two-week leave from missions to settle in. Asuma's almost sister-in-law, who works at the child-care center, is supposed to stop by on her days off to check on us.

Everything has been going well, as once my leave was over, any ANBU who aren't quite back to fighting shape after an injury are sent to babysit, but now the Kazekage is coming for treaty negotiations, and he's bringing his three children, along with his brother-in-law as a caretaker. Given this situation, there has been some talk of putting together a play group of sorts, with some of the clan heirs. So far, I think both Uchiha heirs, and the Hyuuga Branch Head's son (the heiress isn't born yet) will be it, maybe the InoShikaCho children. Asuma and I have been drafted to be the minders, as my captain is to be among the guards at the meeting.

Oh, crap, the youngest of the Kazekage's children is a Jinnchuiri! Luckily, its Shukaku, and as soon as Naruto gurgle-growled at him, they batted each other with plushies and fell asleep curled together on a floor pillow. Itachi and Temari almost set her other brother on fire, with Itachi's fireballs and her unfocused wind blades. After both Yashamaru-san and I scolded them, I got Itachi to let Sasuke off his lap and put him over with Naruto.

When the Kazekage finished negotiations for the day, he was visibly surprised to find his children in opposite corners of the room: Temari using Asuma for target practice (who let her have a tessen the size of a normal fan?), Kankuro and Neji wrestling, and Gaara having an applesauce fight with Sasuke and Naruto. Yasha-san and Kazekage-sama had a hushed conversation that I wasn't supposed to hear, about how this was the first time Gaara hadn't murdered someone when he slept. I'll have to mention that to Sandaime, maybe arrange for Jiraya-sama to consult on improving the seal. It's not like Naruto can go live in Suna for the next few years, for Kyuubi to control Shukaku. Before everyone left, I snapped a photo of Naruto and Gaara sleeping.

**Naruto: Age 6**

"Kakashi, I wish I could keep you as a normal Jonin, but ANBU needs you full-time. Naruto can live on his own now, and he'll start the academy in a few months..."

"I will not disobey an order from my Hokage, but could I have some particulars?"

"While you were on that A-class a few days ago, some of the ANBU were responsible for attempting to hurt Naruto, so we've lost the equivelent of almost a full squad. There are a number of candidates for members, but there aren't enough captains to go around."

"Very well. May I have a day or two to get Naruto moved and settled?"

"Agreed. Report to HQ in 48 hours."

"Naruto, there's something come up. Sandaime-sama gave me a new assignment. Unfortunately, that means I can no longer be your gaurdian. I will visit, but you're to have your own apartment now, in preparation for starting the Academy."

"Are you going back to ANBU to boss around the mean men?"

"Those 'mean men' are no longer in ANBU, but there are a bunch of new people who need a good boss. Don't worry, I'll still visit, and maybe I'll be your sensei when you make genin?"

"OK. Jiji knows what he's doing...Will you help me pack?"


	4. Letter to Kurt

I unearthed a back-up disc from when I went off to college, and half of the music folder was BBMak, the soundtrack of most of my junior-high years. Back Here is adorable, and it came out in 2000, which if I go by the Anderbros headcanon, makes Cooper 14 or 15 when it was on top-40 stations. It got stuck in my head, and this resulted.

_**Nov 5, 2012**_

_**Dear Kurt,**_

_** I'm sorry I couldn't be at home to Skype you like we usually do on Thursdays, but to make up for it, Artie and I played hooky from Glee and he helped me record some songs for you. I'm aware that the pronouns are a bit screwy for Beautiful, but I liked the idea. The one I really set out to record was Back Here, because I really miss you. I know, its another one of those songs that I was barely alive for, but in my defense, its one of those songs Cooper blasted all summer when his girlfriend went to camp. Also, I redid some of the songs that are 'ours'. I made an acoustic Teenage Dream cover, which I really hope you like. **_

_** Sorry if I sound a bit weird on Perfect, but I started crying a bit. I just miss you so much, I had to get out that body pillow and the little bottle of your aftershave last week because I just couldn't go to sleep without a facsimile of you in my bed.**_

_** I'll make sure someone records Sectionals for you. I'll see you in 41 days!**_

_**All of my heart,**_

_**B**_


	5. Johnlock

In regards to the previous installment, we always knew Blaine was bad at picking appropriate songs. Ignore the implications of 'it was a mistake to break up', please. As for this chapter, this is BBC Sherlock. Not necessarily meant to be the same timeline, just lots of ways that they could have met before Stamford introduced them. As for the age differences, these are the generally accepted spacing, but I had to infer the timing of the progression of events.

**when Sherlock was born (John is 4)  
><strong>Johnny had done something silly again, and this time they weren't near home, such that they could go to their local clinic, where the doctors knew John wasn't being abused, just overly adventurous. Instead, they were visiting one of Hamish's cousins in an area where the clinic was an outpatient ward of the local hospital. After some very awkward questions, especially when it turned out he'd hurt himself worse than they thought, Johnny was settled into the paeds ward for overnight observation. He didn't want to stay in bed, and the doctors said he could be carried or pushed in a 'chair, so Mummy took him to look at the babies if he promised to be quiet.

They were rolling up to the window when coming the other direction were a very posh man and a boy a few years older than Johnny. The father had a bundle of blankets in his arms.

"Father, Sherlock will be quite boring for the next six months, and then will need companionship I cannot provide, as I will be at school. Perhaps we should acquire a pet?"

"I'll think about it, Mickey. Now come, we should return Sherlock to the nurses and the oxygen tent."

Johnny had never seen a newborn before, his friends had little siblings, but he didn't get to see them until a few months had passed. He stared at the bundle of blankets for long enough that the older boy tugged on his father's jacket.

"Father, that little boy wishes to see Sherlock, he hasn't seen a new baby before."

"I don't see why not. Unless you're sick?"

"No, sir, just fell out of a tree. May I?"

The man knelt next to Johnny with no regard for the fine wool trousers, a small smile on his face. Johnny peaked into the bundle of blankets, where he saw what looked like an alien with a gingery wig.

Giggling a little, Johnny asked, "When will he look like a baby? The other ones I've seen are all pudgy, and not so red."

"He needs to fatten up, that's all, so a few weeks."

At the difference in volume, the baby opened his slightly slanted eyes, riveting Johnny in place with eyes which looked like blue-tinged sea glass, almost colorless.

**when John was 8 (Sherlock is 4, Mycroft is 12)  
><strong>John was on a school trip to a farm not far from Eton, and when he wandered off from his group while they poked at the sheep, he encountered a pudgy boy and what seemed to be his baby brother out for a ramble. Both were dressed in posh clothes, the older extremely put together in a three-piece suit, the younger quite mussed, his hair a riot of tangled auburn curls and his pants smeared with mud as he poked at a scummy puddle with a stick.

"Sherlock, Mummy will have my head if you come back that messy, we're to dine with some of my acquaintances and their families."

John stumbled to a stop. He recognized that name vaguely. He was about to go over and introduce himself, to see if he could pinpoint where he'd heard that name before, but he heard his teacher calling for him.

**when Sherlock was 11 (John is 15)  
><strong>After the whole debacle at his old school, the embezzling he'd uncovered, you'd think they'd be grateful, forgive that he was out of bed after curfew. Instead, they'd thrown him out, and sent notes to the colleges for next year. Now he was stuck in a little church school in Yorkshire, prestigious and all, but not much of a library, and no chance for Eton, where he wouldn't be _**bored**_.

It was a Tuesday in the inter-term holiday, and it wasn't the season for track, a sport, if you could call it that, which he'd been pressured into participating in. The assistant headmaster was a bit stuck on "Mens sana in corpore sano",so sport was required, even if it wasn't all year. Therefore, he was out experiencing the countryside with all his senses. He would have called Mycroft to complain about his classmates, but he was still angry that Mycroft had abandoned him for Oxford and not helped him stave off the transfer. He was about to plop down in a tuft of tall grass to sulk, but over the small hill came a blond teenage boy who was too busy looking at the sky to look where he was going. Just as he was about to call his attention to the sudden dip in the ground, the other boy had already stepped in it and tumbled down the slope. Rolling his eyes, Sherlock went over to check the other's health status. He wasn't about to leave someone to languish with an injury.

"Are you hurt?"

"A little, I was just looking at the clouds and I must have missed a drop," the other boy huffed, sitting up and checking himself over. "Oh, I'm John. Could you pull me up, my wrist's a bit dodgy, so I probably shouldn't use it to push myself up.

"The edema is quite significant. Are there any other injuries?"

"For a little blighter, you certainly know lots of big words."

"Indeed. Will you be alright to make your way back to your lodgings? It wouldn't do to die out here from exposure, though it would make this dull place more interesting."

Looking askance at the wierd little kid, the older boy turned toward the cluster of lights that denoted the village adjoining the school.

"I'm sure I'll be fine. Nothing wrong with my legs."

**When John was 23 (Sherlock is 19)  
><strong>He was shadowing in the A&E today when a man-barely out of his teens, most likely-was brought in. Since he was dangerously underweight, and by all indications, deep into overdose response, they stabilized him as a John Doe, then contacted the on-site constable to look into finding out his name. In the meantime, John was left to watch over him.

The patient was abnormally thin, made more obvious by the cheekbones which would likely be quite prominent even on someone not coming off a cocaine OD. He looked to be in his late teens, maybe early twenties, and showed all indications of a person of comfortable means who lost that money to his addiction, as none of the scarring and organ function indicators showed more than a year or two living rough.

Just as John was about to turn over his watch duty to the next person, the youth's eyes opened, an icy blue-grey, and a voice almost at odds with his delicate appearance rumbled out, suprisingly clear for someone coming out of unconciousness, and very posh.

"Likely St Bart's, med student watching me, finger-tips gummy, IV in. That last batch must have been tainted and the bastard emptied my pockets. What did they cut it with this time, a pesticide? I really must find a new supplier."

"Maybe you should go to rehab. All indicators show you come from a family of comfortable means, and you haven't yet turned to prostitution, so there's nothing stopping you from getting clean, reconsiling, and making something of yourself."

"Indeed, if I wanted to make something of myself, under your narrow definition. And my family annoys me."

**When John was 29 (Sherlock is 25)  
><strong>He'd just finished training to allow him to use his medical credentials in combat-area situations, and part of the big send-off, and the commission ceremony, was a short concert by a service orchestra. It was ten minutes until the scheduled start of the ceremony, and one of the violin seats was still empty. From what he remembered from secondary, it was one of the first violins, not the concertmaster, but just behind that seat. A man with lots of braid on his shoulder (likely the conductor) was, from all appearances, shouting into his mobile. Seven minutes later, a tall, thin man in a civilian suit stormed in, bow and violin brandished. As he passed John's seat on the aisle, he could hear the man hissing.

"Je fixe ce petit problème de la vôtre, et c'est ainsi que tu me remercies? Ce n'est pas ma faute caporal Simmons a été détourné, et maintenant je dois le remplacer pour cette cérémonie terne. This isn't even my Strad."

The man in civvies looked very out of place amid the uniforms, but he was obviously very good, to sight-read and still add flourishes (which did not seem to go over well, if the expression of the woman sharing a music stand with him was anything to go by).

**When Sherlock was 29 (John is 33)  
><strong>Mycroft needed eyes on the ground that didn't look like government functionaries (why one of his 'people' in MI-6, or Army Intelligence couldn't do it, he couldn't fathom), so he sent Sherlock to ferret out the way information was getting to the insurgents. He got an ID that got him access to every military base, regardless of nationality, and enough money to bribe a significant fraction of a village, and three weeks to figure it out.

He was a day or two from figuring out which of three people it was, and it had only been four days since he got in-country. Today though, he had some bad luck, or got too close, he hadn't parsed that out yet. Either way, he got a bit blown up, but still managed to limp his way into a hospital with a British ambulance outside.

When he got inside, a short blond captain hurried him to a pallet enclosed by curtains.

"Yikes, caught at the edge of an IED? There doesn't seem to be any shrapnel. Any pain other than the cuts?"

"No indication of internal injuries, I believe I bumped my head, but I don't have vision problems, so likely no severe concussion."

"Thanks for the diagnosis. Just sit still for a moment while I go get a suture kit and some plasters."

Fourteen stitches on three cuts, and ten plasters on some blistered burns and a few abrasions, later, Sherlock disappeared from the hospital, back to his rented room to contemplate what he'd learned.

-*-*-  
>Six months later, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes meet in a lab at St Bart's. They do not realize until almost five years later, when Sherlock has returned from the dead, that their lives intersected so many times.<p> 


	6. Banshee meets Gred and Forge

DON'T OWN THEM!

XMFC-Sean + Weasley Twins

Sean had been visiting his sister, there was one of his nieces who seemed to be showing signs of being another Banshee. She lived in this wierd old house at the bottom of Beacon Hill with doors he could swear weren' t there the previous day. He got up one night to go to the bathroom, and stumbled through the door he thought was the bathroom door. Instead, he was in a bedroom with two redheads he didn't know.

"I see you found our special door! Where are you from?"

"Umm...I was in Boston. Am I in England?"

"Well, take a seat, young sir!"

When Sean stumbled back through the closet door, he ended up back at Siobhan's house, and according to the hall clock, it had only been an hour. He had so many new ideas for annoying his sister, and the Professor. Maybe he'd put glue in Hank's shampoo, he wasn't about to do it to Alex...


	7. ChErik

They don't belong to me, I just wanted to give them a happy ending.

Charles had just gotten off the phone with one of his contacts in the FBI, an empath whose power jumped half-way through his parents' nasty custody battle. Xavier's was 'suggested' to be their top-choice as a boarding option while they worked things out. Bryan had come for a year, long enough to gain control and build shields, and for his parent's to iron out terms. Now he had called with bad news. Someone had freed Cain from custody.

Cain had been a bully when they were both young, but he'd gotten worse a year after Kurt died, when he'd become friends with Andrew Frost, after finding out that he could plow through a whole rugby scrum unharmed and unfettered. After the fact, Charles had realized that Cain likely met Shaw, was probably friends with him. During those long nights in the hospital after Cuba, Charles reminded himself that his and Erik's childhood nightmares had become allies.

And now Cain was back on the streets, so to say.

_**Piotr, Logan, could you come up to my office, please?**_

"Hey, Wheels, what's got your panties in a wad?"

"I just received word that my step-brother, Cain, has been broken out of prison. He is a mutant also, and knows I inherited this house. Please come up with ideas on how to make sure he can't hurt anyone here. He apparently wears a blocking helmet much like Magneto's though less elegant, as it is a crash-helmet, of sorts. He is known as Juggernaut."

Piotr blinked a few times, visibly shocked, before Logan started cursing.

"Even with my messed-up memory, I've heard of that guy. You had to grow up with that piece of crap?"

"Calm, Logan. If you could get started on brainstorming tactics?"

That night, Charles stared at the ceiling, drifting. Then he realized that Erik was close enough that he could tell that the accursed helmet had been removed for bed already. Reaching out to settle at the fringes of that beloved mind that he rarely got to touch, he found out that Raven had been turned human, and Erik had been the one to break Cain out.

_**Please be careful, Erik. Cain loved to leave dismembered bunnies in my bed and pushed such memories forward as soon as he found out about the telepathy.**_

_Charles? What?_

_ **Cain is my step-brother. He's two years older than you. Be glad that Raven didn't recognize the name. He moved out right before she came to me, which I'm immensely grateful for. Be careful with him around the young ones. His tastes have always run young.**_

_ I...Why didn't I ever hear of him?_

_ **He moved out when I was 14, not long after his father died. He lived with Andrew Frost at uni, yes those Frosts. I didn't make the connection until after...**_

_ After Cuba. He's instrumental to a plan, but I'll marginalize him._

_**My dear friend, why did you leave me that second time?**_Charles slurred, finally dropping off to sleep.

The next time the two saw each other was at Jean's childhood home.

"Brings back memories, eh, Charles?"

"The best ones. Yet, I...She was so small, and her powers so overwhelming. I didn't think this could happen."

"Sometimes your vaunted shields are too good. Come, we have an appointment."

As he dissolved, Charles sent a last thought, _**I'm sorry, Jean. My dear friend...I **_and was gone.

After the 'storm' was over, Erik sat on the kitchen floor and cried like he hadn't in years. He'd always thought there would be more time.

After all the fracas was over, he was glad to overhear from the soldiers who took him into custody that Cain had somehow ended up beheaded.

Good for you, Wolverine.

As he sat in the park, waiting for a chess partner who would never come, as he had for three months, he absentmindedly flicked his fingers, as he used to to play with coins, paper clips, etc. Then he saw the king wobble! He shot to his feet, visibly startling one of the men at the next table. He grabbed the coins from his pocket and headed to the pay phone across the plaza.

"Xavier School, Ororo Munroe, speaking."

"Miss Storm. Tell your young Rogue that the Cure isn't permanent," he said, then hung up.

A week later, as Erik was working on his coin tricks, extending his precision and power again, he heard the barest whisper of telepathy tinged with a posh English accent.

_Charles?_

_ **You can hear me? Oh, my dear friend, I was so lost.**_

_ You're dead, how can you be lost?_

_ **Dr. McTaggert, our Moira's niece, and I were, at the time of my demise, discussing the concept of transferring a consciousness into a brain-dead patient who is a ward of the state, such as a single father dying of cancer.**_

A little time went by with no indication that Charles was going to continue.

_So you went ahead with the process? Where are you? Are you alright?_

_ **Yes, I'm at St. Catherine's. It took me a while to, I guess the word is align, myself with the new body. I was psy-null for almost two months, and didn't allow myself to awaken until a few days ago. I'll be able to walk again!**_

_ I'm more looking forward to kissing you...if you are still amenable?_

_ **I don't look the same, though.**_

As they 'spoke' Erik had boarded a train and was now only about ten minutes from the hospital.

_I don't care. I always have thought the brain was the most erotic organ._

_ **True. But the physical is ****so**** nice. You're closer. I'm in room 435. And just so you know, your call to the school apparently raised quite the alarm.**_


	8. The Danger of Music

the danger of using music to cover up the sounds of sex, particularly when at least one partner is a musician...

Carole was downstairs, getting her things together before she left for the hospital. Blaine was over to go over History notes, but the notebooks were already on the floor as they cuddled as they listened to an iPod shuffle through, he could remember whose it was at this point, he was too concentrated on playing with the few curls he's extricated from the helmet of gel.

Blaine leaned up to kiss him, and they fell into a rhythm of give and take. A few minutes later, they simultaneously slowed down their kisses as they smoothed hands over the other's body. Comfortable nuzzling was soon replaced by quick, jerky movements of their hips. They surfaced from their post-orgasm bliss to hear the last bit of technologic.

Kurt, realizing what had happened, started chuckling. Blaine just looked at him like he was nuts, and feeling vaguely insulted.

Smoothing a hand through Blaine's hair, he gave him a short kiss, then sputtered out, between gasps of laughter, "We fell into time with the songs, unconsciously."

All the tension went out of Blaine's shoulders, and he huffed out a chuckle, "I guess this is one of the hazards of being so in tune to music. I've had times when I've found myself walking in time to stuff, but **sex** in time to music?"

"We are **not** speaking of this again, though maybe we should try to compile a playlist that is more appropriate pacing?"

_Blaine's experience is something that happens to me all the time, to the point that my mp3 player has nothing more than 150 bpm unless its less than 3 minutes long, so I don't die or re-break my ankles._


	9. Kurt's crafts

He'd learned how to knit when he was six, when Mommy got sick and had to wear a winter hat all the time. He stopped for a while, given that his mom died wearing one of his favorite finished projects, a bulky lace aviator hat in a variegated lavender. Of the twelve hats she'd had, eight of them were Kurt Hummel originals. Dad had three scarves: one very misshapen and holey, as it was the first thing he'd made, that he still wore on tow calls sometimes.

The next project, the reason he started again, was a layette set for Drizzle, but Mr Fabray burnt the tiny cream cotton hat, booties, sweater, and blanket when he found out Kurt made it. Once Quinn had settled in at Mercy's, he made another set, which went with Beth when Ms Corcoran took her home, other than the third bootie Kurt made by mistake.

For Blaine's Christmas present in the Warbler Secret Santa (which was definately rigged), Kurt made Blaine a muted Gryffindor scarf, like the ones from the third movie. The next Christmas, he made a set of hand-holding mittens, the kind where there were two normal mittens, and one huge thing with two cuffs, meant to cover the linked hands. Those were laughed at, but also got him a steamy make-out session while Dad and Carole were out for a political function the next day.

About a month into his freshman year, when the homesickness (well, more like missing Dad and Blaine) got really bad, he got a package from Ohio. Inside, he found a Lima Bean mug, two packets of organic mocha mix (just add hot milk or water), and a lumpy knitted thing. Upon unfolding it, he found that it was a blanket of blocks in various blues, greens, and greys, occasional holes from missed stitches scattered throughout, wrapped around a coin dish. Attached was a note saying,

_**I miss you. Tina and I were bored and lonely without our college boyfriends, so we decided to find a hobby that would allow us to make gifts. She went to Saturday art classes, and Mike got a two tea mugs and a scarf. I really liked the scarf and our mitten set, so I made us this. I took that close up photo I took before you left (the one you think focuses too much on the inside of your nose) to the nice old ladies at the craft store, and got one ball of each color in your eyes, and learned how to make what amounts to really short scarves, then how to join them. I hope you like it, and that it will be our TV blanket once I get there.**_


	10. Loki's kids

This was posted originally as a separate story, before I decided the 'Detritus' collection was useful. It was the product of a jittery night before an exam. Since it was written back in March, the Avengers stuff is based on material from the trailers.

**All my children, by Loki Laufeyson-Odinson**

You likely know all about my eldest children, those recorded in mythology. What no-one, especially All-Father and Thor, know, at least until I make this list and the accompanying chronicles available to them, is that there are more recent, mortal, ones. Hiemdall may know of them, I am not sure.

Merlin

He was the eldest of my Midgard brood. I picked a really bad time to stumble between the worlds. I did not intend to take over the body of a young man by the name of Balinor, but my error provided me an excuse for being able to speak with dragons and do magic, though I inadvertently made Balinor the most powerful Dragonlord ever known to that point. I had imperfect control of the body and couldn't leave, for some reason, therefore, we became a fugitive and ended up fathering the premier magic adept of Midgard history. Somehow, my son became almost as shrouded in myth as my own story. He never knew of my addition to his heritage, though, as Balinor took his fuzzy memories of the time I possessed him as some kind of fugue state of being taken over by the strength of his magic.

Lucrieza Borgia

Her life went a bit wrong, she was to be my entre to southern Europe. I possessed Rodrigo (a cardinal, but not yet Pope) for a time, producing her. Being a religious leader was strange, I was always the bad guy in the stories, so being affiliated with the dominate power structure at the time was interesting. He was "on the side of the angels", but using such _**interesting**_ methods.

She inherited the silver tongue, fruitfulness, and changeable eyes, but little of the manipulative personality. If anything, she ended up too soft, giving in to Rodrigo's direction not just once, but three times! Yes, she used the third marriage to get out of her 'prison', but still let others dictate her life too much.

Alexander Hamilton

Did anyone wonder how a man of such humble beginnings gained so much? He inherited my silver tongue and tricky mind. I was not a participant, so to say, in the conception, but when her pregnancy went a bit wrong, his mother asked anyone who'd listen to help her. I helped her out, and in the process, gifted the child with some of my attributes, making me like a second father. Watching him revolutionize the way people accept governance and govern themselves was a pleasure to watch. Upheaval and new world orders are always fun.

Harry Potter

He is the closest to my avatar that I gained in my younger children. A shape-shifter who resembled my default Asgard shape, powerful in magic, and ever-watchful. This is because likely due to being the first mortal in which I was directly involved in his conception rather than loaning magic to the vessel. I was on one of my walk-abouts and manifested as Lily Evans, replacing the stillborn girl that pregnancy was to become. Petunia was a horrible older sibling to grow up with, at least Thor only beat me up and insulted me as part of martial training. Severus was a great friend, and I never really blamed him for the epithet, though if I'd known about the horcruxes at the time, I would not have been been blindsided on Halloween, and unmade the bastard before he could make my baby's life too much like Nifleheim for those not privileged to be related to its queen. James initially struck me as an idiot who reminded me too much of Thor, being so entitled, but I had to admire his trickery.

Albus had a bit of a shock, to say the least, when I visited him in my daughter's realm. That reminds me, I need to thank the twins, Jor, and Hel for helping Harry in his dreams, the old fool refused to help Harry prepare beyond those 'adventures', so the older siblings took things into their own hands.

Kurt Hummel

Being Elsbeth LeFey was an experiment, as I'd never actually manifested directly, I'd posessed an already extant body to various degrees. I ended up in the foster system for a month, which was no fun, but I did scar some idiots for life, mentally and physically. Then I met the humble, handsome Burt Hummel, who was such a breath of fresh air from all the Asgard politics. He treated me like a princess (technically, prince, but I'm not going to quibble, with all the shape-shifting), and my little boy gained my shifting eyes and sharp tongue. Watching him lambast those who hurt him is great entertainment. I hated to leave him, but there wouldn't be a way to explain how I survived a head-on crash, though I did manipulate things so my little prince was safe besides some minor cuts and bruises.

I was not expecting to see him after I 'died', but that's what happens when he moves to New York City shortly before my feud with Thor comes to Midgard. My foster-brother infuriates me! Kurt was nearby when one of my creations did battle with the 'Heroes', and he was taken to SHIELD for debriefing, where Thor became suspicious.

Harry's reaction to Lokison

I've always had strange dreams, since I was little. Some made sense once I entered the wizarding world, but there were some that the only explanation at the time was I'd read that Norse Mythology book too often in first form. They didn't come very often until mid-way through fourth year. It wasn't until the end of fifth year that I met my half-sister in these odd dreams when she assured me that Sirius was partying in Vahalla with James and King Arthur. That's when I finally put it all together, Mum was somehow the ever-fluid god of mischief. That certainly explained the 'Slytherin' tendencies and no problems when Petunia sent me out to do yardwork in January without a coat.

My brothers, especially the twins, were absurdly helpful in training me for battle, and once I told my sister about the horcruxes, she had as much of a temper tantrum as she ever had, then she promised she'd put any fragments sent to her back together so she had more to let Fen torment forevermore. After the battle, I traveled the world; obviously I gained a penchant for walk-abouts from Mum. After the Hallows claimed me, I became unaging, more so than I was already (Really? No one noticed that I still looked 15 at almost 18?). Ginny started to annoy me, so I vowed to not return to the Isles except for short visits. Instead, I spent almost a decade partying in Amsterdam before I moved to New Amsterdam, New York City, especially after I started hearing rumors of Thor allying with a defense organization based there. There was even a little flare of Mum's presence, an amount that made me think there was another Lokison around. It was one of the weekends that Times Square was crawling with high schoolers, some kind of competition finals. I followed the traces, and felt a pool of presence at the Gershwin, he must have used his silver tongue to talk his way in.

Then came the attacks. Mum, or Father, now, I suppose, had brought his wrath to the Big Apple, likely to get to Thor. That's when I finally met the other current Midgard Lokison, Uncle, and met Loki in person, once I slipped into the SHIELD HQ, following the Lokison aura.

Kurt's reaction to Lokison

I'd always had strange dreams, magical dreams, that became more vivid after the accident, after Mom died. Two men, who called me bróðir, taught me the blade-spinning. It seemed that I never got injured more than bruises, even when I should have broken bones. The night after the kiss-assault, I heard a pair of voices on the edge of my dreams, echoing with wolf howls, that if Karofsky tried to hurt me again, he'd be disintegrated immediately. This both frightened me and intrigued me, but I forgot the instance for a few years, until after I moved to New York, and was caught on the fringes of an epic battle.

I'd been taken to a shiny headquarters of some sort to be interviewed. It seemed I was the only one on that block who was not shipped off to the morgue or the hospital, and thus the only one available to be interviewed promptly. I was shut in a glass interrogation room, a bit wierded out, when a large blond man I recognized from the news as Thor Odinson came barging in.

"Brother, why did you take this shape? Why are you hurting all these people?"

"Um, I don't know you, sir," I was looking around for some kind of panic button when a man with dark hair and bright green eyes, he couldn't be more than a few years older than me, sidled in.

After he looked around, seeming to assess the situation, he chuckled, almost purring, "It seems I found you, little brother. Uncle, shut your piehole a moment. Take a deep breath, then try again."

Complying, likely out of shock, Thor grumbled, "There are more Lokisons. Wonderful. Fen, Jor, and Hel were bad enough."

"If someone would explain? I'm at a bit of a loss, here. I'm just a first-year music performance major doing an engineering minor, not someone special."

"You survived a fatal accident with scratches, severe falls with bruises, never got a cold, and try to sleep through summer. Did you have dreams of the twins?"

Thor seemed to have recovered, as he choked out, "The Lokisons did dream-visitations?"

"Family takes care of family. Did you really expect that all the siblings would leave us alone? Sorry, about that, he's like a big Alsatian, supposedly. Our Mums were Loki on walk-about. I'm Harry, and you're Kurt Hummel. Uncle, go get a cup of coffee with Steve and Tony, I'll talk to Mum when the soldiers bring him through."

That day, I met my two youngest in person as myself. As the idiot mortals dragged me past the room, Harry exited the room, waving the guards off.

"Leave us be, boys. I'll make sure he does nothing harmful."

"Who are you?"

"Omega-6, so bugger off."

Grabbing my elbow, he brought me into the room, pulling me into a hug once the squad went around the corner, flicking a hand at the cameras.

"Hey, Mum. It seems I did get your eyes. Oh, and the shape-shifting. Will the Hallows mess anything up for my Jotun or Asgard blood?"

Sitting down, I blinked and the handcuffs fell off to clank on the floor. Taking my boys' hands, I smiled my first real smile in almost a decade. An hour later, what seemed like half of the higher-ups of SHIELD, and all of the Avengers, had arrived outside the door, but even a blow from Mjolnar didn't make the door even crack.

"Finally! Harry, you need to tell me that spell; I don't know how many times I'd be wanking or taking a bath, or something that means I can't immediately answer the door, and he smashes the damn door down. Any privacy is welcome, at least Hiemdall and Frigga aren't creepy about their voyerism."

"Umm...Mum, maybe we should bring Uncle in here, if the hammer can't smash the door, bringing him in here without it disarms him."

"Good point, little one. Harry, thoughts?"

Snapping his fingers, Thor's sprawled on the floor.

"Not your best moment, bróðir, where is your coordination?"

"Are you going to try to kill me again?"

"Nope. I just thought Midgard could use some livening up. It can be so boring being stuck here, with the Bifrost broken and many of the secret paths caved in. Meet your nephews, Harry and Kurt. Harry, wanna blow some peoples' minds? At least...three of the people out there read that lovely woman's renditions of your life and thought it fiction."

"Oh, fun!" Standing up to stand closer to the glass, he waved, "Hey, guys, I'm Harry Lokison, but officially, I'm Lord Hadrian Potter-Black. Amazing what happens when multiple types of immortality intersect, huh?"

Five people fainted, including the guy with the eyepatch, which sent Kurt into hysterical giggles.

"I'll have to call Coach and tell her that its a good thing she broke up with Fury, he's a bit of a pussy. Oooh, Harry, Mum, can you teach me how to turn him into a cat? That would be funny."

"Maybe once you figure out that you can eat a lot more before you lose your figure. I don't want you starving yourself, young man!"

"Yes, Mum."

Nodding, Loki stepped back toward the wall and disappeared.

"Come on, little brother, we have some catching up to do."

"OK...can I tell my boyfriend you're real? He's obsessed with the books. He made me dress up to go to the last movie."

"When's your next Skype date? I'll pop in while you're talking to him."

"As long as you don't make him think I'm cheating on him."

"Deal. Fully clothed, brotherly hair-ruffling, etc."

"Don't touch the hair!"

"How about I show you a grooming charm so fixing it doesn't take an hour, in exchange for permission to ruffle your hair?"

"Fine."

"Hey, Blaine. How's this week been?"

"A bit boring, and I miss you. I heard there was a big Avengers battle near that coffee shop you like, are you alright?"

"Yeah, a few scratches. I did find out something interesting, though."

Blaine was about to ask for an elaboration when a dark-haired man with green eyes appeared behind Kurt, reaching out toward Kurt's hair.

"Kurt! Watch..."

He was too late, the man had buried his hand in the chestnut locks and mussed them beyond even bedhead.

Kurt just shook his head, then a second later, his hair was back to normal, and the man was sitting beside him.

"That's my older half-brother. I found out about him a few days ago. Why don't you introduce yourself?"

"Hey, I'm Harry Lokison, I heard you're a fan of ol' JK's stuff. This is my baby brother, Kurt Lokison. We met Mum the other day, and finally found each other. I was positive I felt him around the city the last two springs for a weekend, so when I heard of a young man who was the only uninjured person in his block, I snuck into the interview room under the cloak. Tada!"

Blaine's jaw dropped, "Harry...cloak...Your brother's Harry Potter? This isn't a joke?"

"Nope, he taught me some magic; it turns out all the Lokison's have some magic, and Harry even played a prank on Uncle Thor. It was great. Oh, and tell Coach that Mr. Fury is a pussy; he fainted when Harry said hello."


	11. Blaine and girls

**I don't own them, RIB and FOX do, damn them. In case it isn't obvious, this is meant to be between S2 and S3.**

Blaine had just left the organizational meeting for this summer's performers; the director-person was a friend of the Christmas show's director, so he was comfortable with the managerial style. He was almost to his car when his hand was grabbed by the girl who was sort of his counterpart.  
>"Wanna get dinner with me before you head home?"<br>Extricating his hand, he pushed the unlock button on the key-fob, getting into the driver's seat.  
>"No thanks, I have somewhere to be."<br>Blinking quickly, obviously trying to flutter her over-mascaraed lashes, she simpered, "Well, see you tomorrow, then."

The next day was the first day of run-throughs, making sure that people wouldn't dance into a stage pillar or a prop, and during one of the dances, he felt at least seven pinches on his ass, and a few girls rubbed his biceps rather than just gripping his arm a bit to steady their turns.  
>The same girl, with one of her friends, it seemed, followed him to his car that evening also.<br>"There's a community center thing where they set up a karaoke machine in the gym, so its like a dance and concert in one. Want to come with?"  
>"Please? It looks like so much fun, but we don't want to go without a date of some sort."<br>Trying to be as delicate as possible, he answered, "Sorry, I'm taken."  
>"Who's going to know, you don't have curfew until at least 10, right?"<br>"I need to get going."

When Blaine showed up at the Hudmel house that evening to have dinner, then sit with Kurt and watch the fireflies, he barely kept his annoyance in until Kurt asked what was wrong.  
>"You're so tense, Blaine, your shoulder feels like solid rock, and therefore not very comfy. Want to switch spots and I'll give you a shoulder rub?"<br>Nodding, Blaine scooted out from behind Kurt, then settled halfway in his lap.  
>"So what had you so tense?"<br>"Oh, that feels nice...Is your Born This Way shirt clean?"  
>"Why?" then it occured to him, "The girls are hitting on you a bit too hard."<br>"I'm going to have a bruise on my left buttcheek from all the pinches, and they kept caressing my arms."  
>"I don't blame them for their appreciation, but you're mine. I think I wore it for a little while after I washed my hair, not worth dripping on nice clothes, so its pretty clean. There's enough whites it wouldn't hurt to do a load."<br>"No need. Can I have it for my rehearsal shirt? At least for the next couple days?"  
>"OK. Want a hickey or two also?"<br>"You know how much I like my neck nibbled..."  
>"Hmmm..."<p> 


	12. Little Whinging Child Welfare

_This is the result of too much 'staring-at-the-ceiling-because-I-can't-sleep' time. Feel free to contact me if you want to continue it, as I kind of lost the thread._

It was the second day of classes for the local state schools when the Children's Services official responsible for Little Whinging got a phone call.  
>"Hello, Miss Watkins? This is Lydia Desmond at Stonewall. We have a student listed as slated to attend, and hasn't shown up. Any contact with the family of record is rebuffed, they disconnected on me as soon as I identified myself. I contacted you before I called the police for a welfare check, so you could go along if you deemed it necessary. The name is Harry Potter."<br>"Thank you, Ms Desmond. I'll call the station house myself."

"Charlie, its Nanette. I received a call from the local state school that a student didn't show up for class, and the guardians refuse to talk to them. According to my database search, the kid's an orphan placed with the mum's sister and her family. Does that merit a welfare check?"  
>"I'll send over a constable with a car to go with you. Keep me informed?"<br>"Sure."

Knocking on the door to 4 Privet Dr, Officer Daniels at her shoulder, Nanette Watkins tugged on the hem of her suit jacket. An overly thin woman opened the door, a small sneer on her face.  
>"If you're collecting for the widows and orphans fund, my husband gives at the office."<br>"Actually, Mrs...Dursley, I'm from Children's Services, may we come in?"  
>"I suppose. Is this about Mrs. Collins? She's always been a bit shifty."<br>Once they were in the parlor, Nanette asked, "Where is your nephew?"  
>Petunia simpered, "He's not here, he was accepted to a school up north which started earlier this month."<br>"May I have the name of the school, just so I can fix things with our records, and I can relay the information to Stonewall. The headmaster's assistant at Stonewall called me regarding your nephew's apparent truancy. Oh, and may I take a quick look at his room? Just a formality, given it appears the home visits required did not take place."  
>"Mr Henderson was over just a few weeks ago..."<br>"Alex Henderson has been terminated due to inconsistencies in his filed paperwork. His **_creative_**filing caused the death of a 12-year-old."

The room Mrs. Dursley showed her was almost opulent, but when she flipped through the papers on the desk, the only name was Dudley.  
>"Ma'am, this appears to be your son's room. Where does your nephew sleep?"<br>Petunia's lips thinned, and the next room Nanette saw smelled strongly of dogs and was decorated in what could only be described as 'masculine florals'.  
>"When my sister-in-law visits, he gives up his room to her, so we've asked him to keep it slightly to her taste. She came the week before Dudley left for school, and I haven't done my deep cleaning in there yet."<br>Growing suspicious, Nanette asked, "There are three more doors on this floor. One is the master bedroom, one is a lavatory, so what is in the third room?"  
>"My husband keeps a home study, and there are some bookshelves Dudley uses for storage of items he wishes to keep, but not in his room."<br>"May I take a short look? Just in through the door, so confidentiality of your husband's papers isn't an issue?"  
>"I'm sorry, he has asked that even I don't enter for another two weeks; a large project, apparently, is in the offing.<br>"I'll return later, then. Perhaps when your husband can watch me?"

Nanette left, troubled by Mrs. Dursley's manner. Waiting for her at her office was a folder compiled by the shared assistant, some general details on young Mister Potter's guardianship: financials of the trust providing for his schooling and a stipend for his guardian, and a letter accompanying it from the Potter lawyer, promising cooperation with any investigation.


	13. Finn Puts His Foot In It

It was the last Friday night dinner before graduation, and Blaine and Rachel were included. Everything seemed to be going well, the three couples watching a movie together, but then it got to be 10:30, and the subject of going home arose. Rachel's dads had basically given up on curfew, just expecting her to keep them informed of where-ever she'd be. Blaine would be going home to an empty house, as his parents were off on one of his dad's business trips.  
>Carole escorted Rachel to the door, Finn heading upstairs for a COD "appointment", while Blaine and Kurt said their goodbyes.<br>Burt sighed, interrupting the two boys, "Blaine, feel free to stay over, I don't like the idea of you being home alone that long. No funny business, but I know the impending seperation is going to be hard on you...So, Kurt, I'm putting a lot of trust in you two, but you can have Blaine in your room."  
>Most of the tension went out of Blaine's shoulders, and he mumbled a "Thank you, sir."<br>Kurt kept a hold of one of Blaine's hands, but reached out to hug his dad.  
>"Thank you, dad. We won't abuse your trust. As many clothes as we can comforatablely stand..."<p>

Stripping to undershirt and boxers, Blaine flopped down on Kurt's bed. Kurt threw a set of light cotton pants at him, in case he wanted them. Joining him on the bed once he'd done an abbreviated regime and put on his own pjs, Kurt snuggled against Blaine's soft shirt.  
>"Hey. We'll have to go brush our teeth in a minute, but..."<br>"Yeah. This is nice, though."

The next morning, Finn woke up even more starved than usual, which was odd, since it was only about 8:15, a good three hours before he'd usually be up on a weekend. Given his mom was working a short shift that day, and since the election, Burt usually went to look over the shop books on Saturday mornings, his only source of food was Kurt, since he wasn't in the mood for cereal, and he wasn't allowed near the stove anymore.  
>Pushing the door open without knocking, he saw something that would get Kurt in major trouble, Blaine cuddled up in bed with him, in pjs, as if he'd been there for hours already.<br>"Kurt, I'll forget to tell Burt about this if you make me a super-special breakfast."  
>He could barely tell what Kurt was saying when he replied, given how deeply his face was buried in Blaine's neck, but it sounded like, "Dad gave me permission, now go away."<p>

When Burt came back from his morning at the shop, it was to an absent son and sullen step-son.  
>"What's eating you, Finn?" he asked as he sat in his lumpy old recliner.<br>"Why does Rachel have to go home, and Blaine can stay? We're engaged, its not like we're really doing anything outside marriage."  
>"First, that's not really an excuse. Second, they weren't doing anything besides cuddling, they have some decorum and are willing to follow any rules we set down. Can you say the same? Third, they can't even hold hands in public, most of the time, so this house is their refuge. Also, Blaine's parents are off somewhere, and I wasn't about to make him go home to an empty house when those two won't see each other much for months after this summer. Last I heard, you're going to be co-habiting with Rachel in a few months, so can you really begrudge Kurt and Blaine some equivelent time now?"<br>"I'd follow your rules. Or I could go with her occasionally. Why are they special?"  
>"What about 'basically nowhere safe outside this house' is an exaggeration? You and Rachel can kiss and cuddle and hold hands basically anywhere. Haven't you ever noticed how careful Kurt and Blaine, or Leroy and Hiram, are when they're out at the grocery store or getting coffee? How many times have Kurt and Blaine been able to hold hands or kiss at school, even in the glee room? Santana and Britney get some kind of free pass, but they are still careful...Where is Kurt, anyway? Usually Kurt calls or texts when he goes somewhere."<br>"They said something about meeting Santana, Britney, and Dave at the Lima Bean."


End file.
